#so i know its frustrating i really do. but dancing with your friends in the theatre will always be stronger

[hillerska-official]

Something that always really resonated with me in The Perks of Being A Wallflower was the line right near the end when Charlie says "there are people who forget what it's like to be 16 once you turn 17" and maybe it's just because I was 16 the first time I watched the movie and I felt like nobody ever listened to me because I was young, but I promised myself I would not forget what it was like to be 16, or any age that I had been, and that I would extend the respect and understanding that I so craved to others. And I forget to do that sometimes, but whenever I play the perks soundtrack on vinyl (cause I'm a 2014 hipster in my spare time) that speech plays into the last track and I hear it and remember that I need to do that. So anyways if you're 16 and you feel like nobody ever listens to you or remembers what being 16 felt like I'm sorry. I promise I do. Relish in the good parts while you have them and know the bad will be over soon 💚

[flowered-mp3]

y'all ever just watch someone self-sabotage themselves to the point where it's hard to watch

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | accidentally confessing their love

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (since its nearing the start of the 2025 season feel free to comment anyone you'd like me to add to my grid posts <3) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : your f1 driver friend confessing how they really feel for you!! <3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (suggestive if you squint during charles' part...) ୨ৎ : tws : slightly... suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3372

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i just feel like this is so cute and wholesome idk something this i need this love

ʚ・max verstappen

the night had been loud.

a red bull team party, music blasting, people laughing, and max was absolutely wasted. you had never seen him like this before, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious. max, the four-time world champion, was currently leaning half his weight on you, grinning like an idiot while mumbling something under his breath.

"max, you need water," you said, struggling to keep him upright as he practically draped himself over you.

"neeeee," he slurred dramatically. "i need you."

you rolled your eyes. "yeah, you need me to call you a cab."

max groaned, tilting his head back. "no, you." his words came out jumbled, but there was something… weirdly sincere about them. his drunken blue eyes stared into yours as he said, "i love you."

you blinked. "what?"

"i love you," he repeated, much too casual for something that insane to say out loud.

you laughed, patting his shoulder. "oh, okay. and tomorrow morning, you’ll love a big headache, too."

max frowned, clearly frustrated that you weren’t taking him seriously. his grip on your arm tightened slightly. "no, no, i mean it. i love you."

"you’re drunk."

"yeah, but i still love you."

"go to sleep, max."

"i love you."

"uh-huh."

—

the next morning, max showed up at your door looking like death itself.

sunglasses on, hoodie up, hair a mess, and a red bull can in hand like it was some kind of magical cure. you let him in without a word, watching as he flopped onto your couch with a heavy groan.

"never letting checo mix my drinks again," he muttered.

you smirked. "you mean never letting yourself mix your drinks?"

max lifted a hand weakly. "details."

you sat next to him, poking his shoulder. "so, do you remember anything from last night?"

his face scrunched in thought. "uh… i remember dancing, i remember lando laughing at me, and i remember… uh…" his voice trailed off as his posture stiffened slightly.

you watched him carefully. "you remember what?"

max’s hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck. "i may have said something stupid."

you raised an eyebrow. "oh, you mean confessing your undying love for me? yeah, i’d say that qualifies as stupid."

he groaned, sinking lower into the couch. "shit."

you laughed. "so, do you want to take that back, or…?"

max sat up suddenly, pulling off his sunglasses so he could look you dead in the eyes.

"no," he said, completely serious.

your breath caught.

max shook his head. "i don’t want to take it back. i meant it."

you blinked, not expecting that. "max…"

"i love you," he repeated, but this time, there was no alcohol in his system, no slurred words, no hazy grin. just him, just max, staring at you like he had known this truth for a long time.

your stomach flipped.

"say something," he mumbled, clearly nervous.

you smiled, your heart pounding. "you really have the worst timing, you know that?"

max exhaled a small laugh. "tell me something i don’t know."

you rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed your hand, holding it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"just tell me one thing," he said quietly. "do you love me back?"

you squeezed his hand. "i do."

max grinned, leaning his forehead against yours. "good."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis was always grateful for you.

you had been there for everything, the highs, the lows, the chaotic last-minute travel plans, the quiet moments in between. being friends with lewis hamilton meant late-night phone calls when he couldn’t sleep, celebrating podiums like they were your own victories, and grounding him when the world became too much.

and lewis? he never took you for granted.

but it wasn’t until today that he realized why.

—

"you are an actual lifesaver," lewis said, flopping onto your couch with an exaggerated sigh.

you grinned, handing him a cup of tea before sitting down next to him. "all i did was fix your pr nightmare. you act like i just saved your championship season."

he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "no, because if i had to sit through one more meeting about my ‘social media strategy’ or listen to someone tell me how i should ‘connect with fans better,’ i was going to lose my mind. you handled that mess in, like, five minutes."

you smirked, sipping your own tea. "well, someone had to. you looked like you were about to crawl under the table and never come out."

lewis laughed, shaking his head. "not even joking, i considered it." he took a sip of tea, sighed happily, then looked over at you.

"i love you."

the words came out so easily, so naturally, that it didn’t even register at first.

you just smiled. "i know."

and for a moment, everything felt normal. because this was you and lewis. you had always been close. you had always been affectionate. saying "i love you" in moments like this wasn’t weird.

except this time, it was.

because suddenly, lewis stopped mid-sip, blinking like he had just realized what he said.

you felt it too.

the room got quieter, the air heavier. your heartbeat picked up, and when you looked at him, his expression had shifted…his usual effortless confidence replaced with something more uncertain.

"i mean, uh—" lewis started, clearing his throat. "you know, like… i love you in a friend way."

you raised an eyebrow. "do you?"

he opened his mouth, then closed it. "i… think so?"

you set your cup down, turning your body to face him fully. "because it sounded different this time."

lewis stared at you for a second, like he was replaying the last few moments in his head, analyzing them like a race strategy. then he exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"yeah," he admitted, voice softer now. "it was different, wasn’t it?"

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

"do you want to take it back?" you asked.

he met your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "no."

your stomach flipped.

lewis shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. "you know i meant it, right?"

you nodded, barely breathing. "yeah."

he tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. "and?"

you bit your lip, your pulse racing. "and… i love you too."

lewis grinned, the kind of smile that could light up an entire room.

"that’s good," he said, voice warm, eyes soft. "because i really didn’t want to take it back."

ʚ・george russell

fighting with george russell was exhausting.

not because he yelled, he didn’t. not because he was mean, he wasn’t. but because george had this thing where he had to be logical, had to be rational, had to explain why he was right in a way that made you want to rip your hair out.

and right now? you were both standing in his kitchen, arguing over something so stupid that you weren’t even sure how it started.

"george, i swear to god, you are so stubborn!"

"me? i’m stubborn?" he gestured wildly. "you’re the one refusing to see reason!"

"you’re acting like you’ve never been wrong in your life!"

"because i’m not wrong about this!"

you groaned, throwing your hands up. "oh my god, you’re impossible!"

george scoffed, shaking his head. "you are impossible!"

the frustration was boiling over.

the tension in the room was thick.

and then, suddenly, george blurted out, "i love you, and you make me insane!"

you froze.

he froze.

the room went completely silent.

you blinked. "what?"

george exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "oh, for god's sake," he muttered, mostly to himself, before looking back at you. "i love you. and i don’t know why i decided right now was the perfect time to say it, but it’s true."

your heart was pounding. "you… love me?"

"yes," he huffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "you drive me crazy, you argue with me about the dumbest things, and you never let me have the last word—"

"because i’m right most of the time," you interrupted automatically.

george shot you a look. "see? this is what i mean."

you opened your mouth to argue again but stopped. because, holy shit, george russell just confessed his love for you.

and maybe you were still annoyed, and maybe you still thought he was wrong about whatever the hell you were fighting about, but none of that mattered anymore.

because you loved him too.

you swallowed. "well… for the record, i love you too."

george let out a breath, his whole body relaxing. "thank god."

and then, before you could say anything else, he closed the space between you, cupped your face, and kissed you, like he had been waiting to do it forever.

the argument? forgotten. the love? loud and clear.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was always shamelessly flirty with you. the teasing, the winks, the ridiculous pick-up lines? flirting was practically his love language. and after years of friendship, you had gotten used to it.

mostly.

right now, he was watching you struggle with a jar of pasta sauce in his kitchen, leaning against the counter with that infuriating smirk of his.

"you need help, amor?"

you huffed, gripping the jar tighter. "i got it."

carlos snorted. "sure you do."

you shot him a glare before twisting the lid as hard as you could. nothing. the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

carlos reached for it. "come on, let me—"

you yanked it away. "no. i can do it."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "you are very stubborn."

carlos chuckled but didn’t argue. instead, he folded his arms and waited, watching you wrestle with the jar for another few seconds. finally, with an annoyed groan, you shoved it into his hands.

"fine. do it."

carlos grinned like he had just won a world championship, taking the jar with an exaggerated flourish. "watch and learn."

with one quick motion, he popped the lid off effortlessly and held it up like a trophy. "easy."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "i loosened it."

"of course you did," he said, eyes twinkling. "and you’re so lucky i love you, or i would let you struggle with every jar forever."

silence. the air in the kitchen shifted.

you stared at him, your brain short-circuiting. "what?"

carlos blinked. "huh?"

you took a step forward. "what did you just say?"

he hesitated, his confident expression faltering for the first time. "i said… you're lucky i—" he stopped, suddenly realizing what he had let slip.

your heart was racing now. "carlos."

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "shit."

"you love me?" you asked, voice softer now.

carlos let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "i mean… yeah. kind of a lot, actually."

you just stood there, staring at him, completely thrown off by the way he was suddenly serious.

carlos sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "i was planning to say it differently. maybe over dinner, something romantic. not… after opening a damn jar."

a laugh bubbled up in your chest. "this is kind of perfect, though."

he raised an eyebrow. "you think so?"

you grinned, stepping closer. "yeah. because now, i get to say it back."

carlos's eyes flickered with something warm, something hopeful. "you do?"

you nodded. "yeah."

before you could say anything else, he pulled you in, his hands resting on your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours. "you are still very lucky, amor," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "yeah? and why’s that?"

carlos smirked before kissing you, slow and sweet.

"because now, i get to love you forever."

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles didn’t get mad.

not really. not in the way that others did. he wasn’t the type to yell, to throw things, to let his emotions get the best of him. he carried stress in his shoulders, in the tight clench of his jaw, in the way his fingers tapped anxiously against his thigh.

but right now? right now, he was livid. and it was because of you.

"can you stop being so damn reckless for one second?" charles snapped, pacing the length of your apartment like he was trying to burn off the anger simmering beneath his skin.

you huffed, crossing your arms. "i wasn’t being reckless."

"you could have been hurt!" his voice cracked slightly, and that’s when you realized this was more than just frustration.

you sighed. "charles, i—"

"do you even care what happens to you?" he interrupted, his voice rising in a way you rarely ever heard from him. his hands curled into fists at his sides, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

you furrowed your brows. "of course, i do! but i had it under control—"

"no, you didn’t!"

the words were sharp, cutting through the tense air between you. charles never yelled. he never raised his voice at you. but tonight, something was different.

you took a step closer. "why are you so upset?"

charles let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "are you serious?" he turned toward you fully now, eyes burning with something raw, something you didn’t quite understand yet.

and then, all at once, he snapped.

"i care about you, can't you see that i love you?!"

the words hung between you, heavy and unshakable.

your breath caught, your heart slamming against your ribs as charles stood there, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling like he had just run a race.

slowly, the realization of what he had just said seemed to settle in. his expression shifted, frustration fading into something more vulnerable, something exposed.

he swallowed hard. "merde," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "i—"

"you love me?" you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

charles exhaled, his entire body deflating. "yes." there was no hesitation, no backtracking. just the truth. "i do."

silence stretched between you, thick and charged, the weight of his confession pressing into the space like a live wire.

your lips parted, but no words came out. because what could you even say to that?

charles ran a hand over his face. "i know i shouldn't have said it like that. i know this isn't the right moment, but damn it, i can't just sit here and watch you act like nothing matters, like you don’t matter."

your throat tightened, and suddenly, you weren’t thinking about the argument anymore. you weren’t thinking about the reckless thing you had done, the stress that had led to this moment.

you were thinking about him.

the way his hands were still clenched at his sides, like he was holding himself back. the way his eyes darkened as they flickered down to your lips for just a second, just long enough for heat to pool in your stomach.

"say something," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, but no less intense.

you swallowed hard. "i—i didn’t know you felt that way."

charles took a step closer, slow and deliberate, until there was barely any space left between you. "you do now."

your breath hitched. "and what happens now?"

his gaze dropped to your lips again, lingering this time. "that depends," he murmured, "are you going to let me show you how much i mean it?"

the air was thick, charged with something electric, something inevitable.

you barely had time to nod before his lips crashed against yours, urgent and desperate, like he had been holding this in for years.

and maybe, just maybe…he had.

ʚ・lando norris

being best friends with lando norris meant you were used to his nonsense.

you were used to his chaotic energy, his terrible dad jokes, his ability to trip over literally nothing, and the way he could never sit still for more than two minutes. you were used to the weird stares he gave you when he was deep in thought, and you were definitely used to the way he sometimes just blurted out whatever was on his mind with zero warning.

but this? this was new.

you were sitting across from him in his living room, scrolling through your phone while he aimlessly clicked through the tv, trying to find something to watch. it was quiet, comfortable, and perfectly normal.

until lando, completely unprompted, stared at you and blurted out, "i love you."

your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. "what?"

lando blinked, eyes wide, as if he had only just processed what had come out of his own mouth.

"oh. uh." he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "i said… i love glue?"

you squinted. "lando."

he coughed, looking absolutely panicked now. "i meant… i love zoo. the zoo. love the zoo. animals are great."

you deadpanned. "lando."

"i love you." he sighed in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "okay, yeah, that’s what i said."

you stared at him, half amused, half trying to figure out if he was messing with you. "you just…randomly decided to say that?"

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "i didn’t mean to say it! i was just looking at you and thinking about it and then…boom. my brain short-circuited and now i want to throw myself into the ocean."

you bit your lip, watching the way he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the tips of his ears turning red.

it was kind of adorable.

"so," you said, leaning back. "you love me?"

lando shot you a half-hearted glare. "yeah, obviously."

you smirked. "you love me."

he groaned again, throwing his head back against the couch. "are you seriously going to make me suffer right now?"

"yes," you said immediately, grinning. "because this is hilarious."

lando grumbled something under his breath, still refusing to look at you.

you scooted closer, nudging his leg with your foot. "hey."

he peeked at you through his fingers. "what?"

you smiled, softer this time. "i love you too."

his hand dropped from his face as his eyes flickered to yours. "wait. you do?"

you laughed. "obviously."

the relief that washed over him was instant. his whole body relaxed, and that familiar, cheeky grin of his came back full force.

"good," he said, reaching over to pull you into a dramatic hug. "because that would've been really awkward if you didn't."

you snorted. "lando, it was already awkward."

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar was a quiet kind of chaotic.

sure, he wasn’t as loud as some of the other drivers, but he had his moments…usually when he was sleep-deprived, caught off guard, or in this case, accidentally confessing his feelings through text.

it happened late at night, when you were already in bed, casually texting him like you always did. the conversation was nothing special, just something about the race next weekend, a stupid meme he sent, and your usual back-and-forth teasing.

and then, out of nowhere, a new message popped up from oscar.

oscar: yeah okay but i love you though

your heart stopped.

you blinked at the screen, reading the message once, twice, three times, just to make sure your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you.

before you could even process it, the familiar typing… bubble appeared.

then disappeared.

then came back.

then disappeared again.

you could feel his panic through the screen.

finally, another text came through.

oscar: wait no oscar: i didn’t mean to send that oscar: ok i mean i did but not like this oscar: i am going to jump into traffic

you bit your lip, torn between laughing at his very obvious meltdown and screaming because holy shit, oscar just told you he loves you.

before he could actually throw himself into oncoming traffic, you typed back.

you: so you love me, huh?

the typing bubble appeared. stopped. appeared again.

then:

oscar: erm. yeah?

you grinned, your heart flipping as you typed back.

you: good. because i love you too.

the typing bubble stayed still for a long time. then:

oscar: okay i take it back, this was the perfect way to say it.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[jzprncess]

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment. 

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : would you make a part 2 for "like real people do" where after the fight reader gets really depressed and gives up trying to talk to him so he finally realizes his mistakes and tries to be a better person for her. she's still weary of him so doesn't really speak to him outside of formalities which frustrates him. but during that period aemond tries to make a move on her but he's a really good friend and makes her feel wanted and loved so when aegon watches them dance during a feast he kinda snaps and they finally argue talk their feelings out with them making up by the end and maybe if smut if you want to write it??? thank you! word count: 1, 000+ words

You listened to him a little too well, like a loyal pup listening to its Master. You avoided him like he was the Stranger himself. Your once soft glances. The subtle smiles whenever you looked at him. The way your fingers would brush against his. The way you would tend to him. The way you would set out his clothes after a night out in Flea Bottom. 

Everything that you had done for him. It was all over and done. He had ruined it all with his pathetic temper tantrum. He regretted it. He fucking regretted it all as days turned into a fortnight. A fortnight was dragging into a full moon. And he was starting to crave having you around once again. He craved you more than he craved wine. You were now a ghost in his life. Passing by, unseen and unheard. 

He was sure that soon enough you would come back to him. You'd snap out of this little daze. You'd come back to him. You'd coddle him, just like you used to. Everything, everything, everything would be alright. You'd be back and this would be nothing more than a small fight in the past.

Watching you and Aemond dance together, Aemond was so gentle with you, his hands and gaze never strayed into anything inappropriate. Aemond was a true gentleman, he would never dare to dishonor you. He always treated you with such respect and kindness. Brushing it off as nothing more than a cordial dance between a brother and sister-in-law, Aegon takes a sip of his wine, turning his back to the two of you. 

Hearing soft laughter come from behind him, he snaps his head back towards you too in an instant, eyes sharp. He did not care. In the weeks of your avoidance, he was fine! He was fucking fine! But, why the fuck did you look so happy with him? You looked happy with Aemond, of all people. You looked really happy with Aemond. Happier than he had ever made you in the years of your marriage together. 

“They look happy together.” Helaena smiles, “Do they not, Aegon?”

“They do.” He grumbles, scowling deeply. 

“I am happy to see her so happy once again.” Helaena nods mindlessly, “She was so upset before.”

“She was?” He raises a brow. 

“Yes, she was. Aemond though, he was very kind to her. They spoke a lot. She has been smiling since she had spoken to him. Tis’ good.” Helaena smiles, unaware of her words.

Narrowing his eyes at the sight of you and Aemond dancing, he shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on his chalice. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t fuckign upset in the slightest. Why the fuck would anyone get upset at such news like this? He wasn’t. He wasn’t. 

“What of?” He asks, masking his displeasure. 

“Dragon’s.” Helaena smiles, “Other things. But, most of dragon’s.”

“Dragon’s?” 

“Mm-hmm, she has always had an interest in dragon’s. Specifically Vhagar.” Helaena shakes her head, “She thinks that Dragons and their riders can share memories of Old should their bond be so tightly intertwined.” 

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I do not think so. If dragon dreams are true, tis’ no surprise if such a thought could be true.” Helaena argues, “If you spoke to her, you would know of this.”

Clenching his jaw tightly at Helaena’s subtle jab, he trails his eyes back onto you, seeing just how happy you looked with Aemond. His heart clenched tightly. It should be him in Aemond’s place. He should be the one getting you so happy and comfortable. He should be the one listening to the stupid thoughts. Not Aemond. Chugging all of the wine in his chalice, he slams the chalice down hard on the table, standing up from his seat. 

No. Nope. Not a chance. Not a fucking chance. Aemond would not take his place. He could not, no he would not be replaced by his younger brother. You were his wife. You were supposed to be his little pest. You were supposed to be his. Running a hand through his hair, he stalks towards the two of you, keeping a calm facade for your sake. He would win you back. If he could seduce whores in Flea Bottom, he could seduce you back. 

“If you do not mind, I would like to have my wife back, dear brother.” He cuts in, his voice smooth with a hint of iciness.

“Oh..” You murmur, the smile on your face dying in an instant. 

“If the Lady wishes, then I shall end our dance.” Aemond glares at him, “After all, she may be tired of dancing.”

“She is my wife.”

“Yes, she is. But, we’ve been dancing for so long.” Aemond argues, “Mayhaps, you should ask her if she wishes to keep dancing or if she would like some wine.”

Seeing the subtle glare his brother gave him, he puffs his chest up in defense, attempting to intimidate him. He was the King and your husband. He had every right to be around you and ask you for a dance. Narrowing his eyes hard at him, Aemond motions to you with his eye, trying to make him understand. What the fuck was he trying to say? Clenching his jaw in confusion, it suddenly clicks in his head what Aemond was suggesting. A way for him to speak to you. Aemond was not attempting to steal you. He was trying to help him.

“Um, Y/n, would you like to dance with me?” 

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You softly shake your head, “I have had my fill of dancing.”

“Then, may I suggest you join me at our table for some wine and fresh air?” He offers again, attempting to find some middle ground with you. 

As tempted as he was to sling you over his shoulder, he knew that it would only worsen the distance between the two of you, and maybe earn him a hard punch to the nose from Aemond. He had to be smart. He had to be the complete and utter opposite of himself. Looking at you a little hopeful, he holds his hand out for you to take, praying that you would at least grant him that. 

“I thought you wished for me to leave you be?” You murmur, “Twas’ hard to not understand that when you were shouting at me.”

“Mayhaps, I was wrong.” He gulps, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“But, you said to me⎯” 

“I want to be alone, but alone with you.” He stutters, “Um, that is if you will allow it to me.”

Cowering slightly as you stare him down, he retracts his hand, now aware of Aemond’s lack of presence. It was just you and him. Though, it was not a comforting thought. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly looks you over, eyes trailing down your gown.

It was purple with pearls sewing into the skirt. You always wore green to match with him. His gut churns painful, now aware of just how much distance had brewed in the weeks apart. You used to be so intertwined with him. 

“I do not wish to be around you any longer. Tis’ clear my presence is a bother.” You argue, staring him down like he was your prey. 

“No, I do not wish for that any longer.” He mumbles, like a petulant child.

“You do not?” 

“I do not. I wish for us to act like real people do. To not be like how we once were.” He explains, “I wish to change. For there to be no distance.”

“Bold words do not move me, Aegon. Tis’ actions that do.”

Nodding his head in agreement at your words, he knew that he had royal fucked up. Hell, even his own dragon refused to look at him for what he had done, siding with your dragon. He had to earn your respect. But, he was willing to do it. Swallowing his pride, he looks at you shamefully, seeing the hate within your eyes.

You now looked at him with the same hate that everyone else in the Realm did. It was not as pleasing or comforting as he had wanted or though it would be. It felt shameful. It felt heartbreaking. You were supposed to look at him with love, not hatred.

“I..”

“You what, Aegon?” You snap back, annoyed.

“I…Tell me what you wish for me to say and do. Tell me what man you wish for me to be, and I shall be him for you.” He pleads, using the same words you had said to him weeks ago.

----

[moonzzip]

thinkin' bout you | kwon jiyong

a/n — so, this is a story I had an idea for out of the blue, I don't know if I'll post more, only time will tell, I enjoyed writing it and wanted a bit of jiyong's angst, now I'm sharing it, english is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes

summary: you wanted to help jiyong, but it didn't go as planned.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: bigbang debuted recently in this story, little angst, happy ending, small appearance of taeyang and daesung, indirect mention of t.o.p

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k

when you walk into the practice room, your eyes go straight to the floor, seeing jiyong crouched down with sweat dripping from his temples, slightly out of breath. you sigh, “jiyong, that’s enough, right? you’ve been here for hours. if you keep pushing yourself to the limit, you might get hurt.”

your gaze shifts to the corner of the room, where empty water bottles are scattered—evidence of the countless hours jiyong has spent perfecting his dance. walking over, you pick up an unopened one and twist the cap off, making your way toward the man on the floor. “here, you need to dri—”

a sharp slap sends the bottle flying to the ground, its contents spilling instantly. you don’t even have time to react before he snaps, “shut up. stop bothering me. i’m busy right now.”

he runs a hand through his damp hair, sighing in frustration. “you don’t even know what i’m going through. you don’t know how hard it is to keep doing this for hours. if you didn’t have what it takes to debut, then just leave others alone and stop being a nuisance.”

you stare at jiyong in shock, completely speechless. he had never acted like this before. you knew he was stressed, but you still worried about him. before you can even process it, he’s already walking away, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone in the practice room.

you stand there, blinking, unable to believe the words that just came out of your (former?) best friend’s mouth. you had always been there for him. you spent so much time by his side, sacrificing your own things just to help him—whether it was with his idol career or anything else. you had been there from the very beginning, even before jiyong met the other members of the group he always talked about.

looking down at your feet, unsure of how to react, your eyes land on the fallen water bottle. without thinking, you walk toward the small supply closet in the practice room to grab something to clean up the mess. as you wipe the floor, you feel your legs weaken. you crouch down, biting your lips hard as your eyes well up with tears. clutching your hair in anguish, you let go of the mop and cover your eyes with one hand, drowning in your own misery.

you don’t know how long you stayed there—it couldn’t have been too long—but eventually, you stand up and walk out of the dimly lit practice room, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor.

as you descend the stairs to the company’s lobby, you pass by taeyang and daesung, who greet you cheerfully. “hey, ___! have you seen jiyong around?” taeyang asks, while daesung waves at you with a smile.

you glance at them, then simply shake your head with a neutral expression before continuing toward the exit. the two watch you walk away in silence.

“what do you think happened?” daesung wonders out loud, not really expecting an answer.

you walk aimlessly for about ten minutes, staring up at the starry sky. turning your head to the side, you see the vast han river, its waters reflecting the scattered stars above. approaching a nearby bench, you sit down, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. leaning your head back against the bench, you exhale a shaky sigh, then lift your arm to cover your eyes, breathing heavily, lips trembling.

the sound of the wind fills your ears, drowning out everything else.

your arm slowly falls to your side, away from your face. your eyes remain closed.

“…aren’t you cold?”

your eyes snap open in an instant, locking onto the ones you sometimes admired in secret. the two of you stare at each other in silence. jiyong’s gaze lingers, waiting for your answer, while yours are wide with surprise. you blink, his breath faintly hitting your forehead due to how close he is when speaking.

for a small, minuscule, almost imperceptible moment, your eyes flicker to his lips—but you quickly look away.

you stand up from the bench, tilting your head just slightly to avoid bumping into his.

“…jiyong?” you whisper, noticing the cold air leaving your lips. how long had you been walking? you don’t know.

your eyes shift to the man in front of you, only a short distance separating you both, with the bench still between you.

silence.

but soon, you’re the one who looks away first, turning your gaze toward the river, where the moon’s reflection shimmers on the surface. even when you hear footsteps, you don’t look. jiyong stops beside you, but neither of you speaks—until he finally does.

“here.”

you turn your head, only to find something practically shoved into your face, blocking your view of him. your hands instinctively reach out, taking the small bag. you glance down at it, then realize what it is. your breath hitches, and your eyes glimmer slightly as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“ohhh~ kwon jiyong is giving me chocolates? that means you’re confessing your love for me, right?” you tease, grinning mischievously as you nudge him with your elbow.

before you can say anything else—

“…yes.”

your world stops.

everything freezes.

your eyes widen in shock. you’re completely paralyzed. and apparently, so is jiyong. the two of you stand there, speechless. your mouth hangs open. his does too—but he quickly covers it with his hand, as if unable to believe what he just said.

silence again.

you gently take his hand in yours, pulling it away from his lips.

“it’s okay, ji. i like you too.”

delicately, you hold his hand.

“i’m sorry, ___.”

you lift your eyes to his, but before you can say anything, he continues,

“i said things i shouldn’t have, and i hurt you. that’s the last thing i ever wanted to do. i was just stressed and couldn’t express myself the right way. i was frustrated—still am, actually—but now it’s because i said things that hurt you. i never meant them. i’ve never been good at expressing my feelings. and the way you take such good care of me… it made me confused. embarrassed. happy. warm.

i tried to distract myself by dancing—not just to improve, but to stop thinking about you, and i—”

his words are cut off by the soft touch of your lips against his.

gentle. warm. comforting.

but just as quickly as they came, they are gone.

jiyong stares at you in shock, his cheeks heating up as he processes what just happened.

you smile. “your speech was getting too long. i forgive you, you idiot.”

taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it lightly. “we should go get some ramen, just the two of us. the other three eat way too much—unless they’re paying this time.”

you start walking, pulling jiyong along with you.

he stares at your back, at your hand holding his, and he smiles—his heart warm, the cold from before completely forgotten.

a/n — I wrote this while listening to 'this love' by gd, I saw the m/v recently and I thought it was so... I don't know, a really good vibe to write, I hope you liked it! I have some difficulties with english so I used a translator to help me write it, but I hope it's not bad, thanks for reading!

[accio-boys]

lost in his dance | fiyero x reader

summary; you confronted Fiyero’s careless attitude, leaving him behind, wondering if he’d notice. btw here's the part 2 of the story.

The wind roared past the window, rattling the glass and filling Fiyero’s suite with a biting chill. Ozma Towers, with its grand halls and lavish rooms, felt colder than ever.

You sat at his desk, staring at the stack of neglected assignments and half-finished projects, the frustration boiling in your chest. You’d spent hours trying to pull him out of his downward spiral, but it always felt like trying to fill a broken jar—no matter how much you poured in, it leaked right back out.

“Fiyero, what do you mean you’re going to Ozdust again?” you called out sharply, hearing him rummage through his wardrobe behind you.

“You’ve been there every night this week with Galinda. Don’t you think it’s time to focus on your work? You’re failing half your classes.”

His laugh echoed from the other side of the room, light and careless.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, stepping into view with his shirt untucked.

“You’re always so tense. You really should learn to let go.” He leaned against the edge of the desk, his smirk infuriatingly lazy.

“I see I still haven’t corrupted you yet.”

“Corrupted me?” you snapped, turning to glare at him.

“Is that what you call this? Dragging everyone down with you? Your friends, your grades, your future? Do you even care about anything?”

His smirk deepened as he reached for his coat, moving with the same infuriating ease he always did.

“Of course, I care,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“I care about enjoying life. About living in the moment. You should try it sometime.”

“Living in the moment?” you shot back, standing abruptly.

“You think ignoring your responsibilities is living? Pretending nothing matters isn’t freeing, Fiyero. It’s pathetic.”

His expression flickered for a moment—just a moment. Something raw and unguarded flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could name it.

“What’s so wrong with not caring?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than before.

“What if none of this matters? What if it’s all just… meaningless?”

You froze, the anger in your chest dimming for a second. “That’s why you do this, isn’t it?” you said, your voice quieter now.

“You act like nothing matters because you’re scared it doesn’t. But Fiyero, hiding behind parties and charm isn’t living—it’s running away.”

For a second, you thought you’d gotten through to him. He looked at you like he might say something real, something honest. But then, with a shrug, his mask slipped back into place.

“Maybe,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“But at least I know how to have fun. You? You’re so obsessed with trying to matter that you don’t even know how to enjoy yourself.”

You stared at him, your fists clenching at your sides.

“Do you think this is fun for me?” you snapped.

“Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes while you throw everything away? You’re selfish, Fiyero. And I’m done.”

His grin faltered. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—confusion, annoyance, maybe regret.

You grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door, your chest heaving with anger and disappointment.

Pausing for a moment, you turned back to him, your voice cold and cutting.

“Do your own work for once. Or don’t. I don’t care anymore. I’ll just be dancing through life, like you said.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with bitterness. You didn’t wait for a response.

The wind howled louder as you stepped into the hallway, slamming the door behind you. It cut through your coat, chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t stop walking.

Your mind raced, replaying his words over and over, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

You told yourself you were done. Done with his excuses, his charm, and his endless refusal to care. But as the cold wind whipped around you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even noticed you were gone—or if he’d just keep dancing through life without a second thought.

should I do a part 2? should I also do requests? what do you guys think?

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[willowsnook]

The Ultimate Crossover

quinn hughes x stroll!reader

——————————————————-

After a childhood in the spotlight, and befriending one of the most popular athletes while you were in college, your goal for your life when you moved to Vancouver was to fly under the radar. So far, you were killing it.

You’d been on the athletic training staff for the Canucks for six months now and not one person had brought up your family or a certain quarterback that still called you once a week to chat. Here you were just a normal girl with a normal job.

The guys had all been really nice to you and you loved Vancouver. You grew up in Montreal and as much as you loved being in the US for college, you wanted to be back in Canada to start the rest of your life. You had a couple of childhood friends who had moved to Vancouver after high school so you reconnected with them and were integrated into their friend group.

That friend group is who you were with now, sitting in a VIP section of a new club that had just opened. Your last name carried a lot of weight so you ended up being invited to opening weekend and asked to bring as many friends as you wanted.

It had never crossed your mind that you could see anyone from work so you were surprised when you heard your name being called as you were heading to the bathroom. Turning, you saw two Canucks’s players, staring at you like they were mesmerized.

“Hi boys,” you said tipsily. Elias was the first to meet your eyes, Quinn was still in a trance looking at the way your short, tight, dress hit all of your curves perfectly. You flushed under his stare, feeling naked.

Not many guys could catch your attention these days, especially ones that were famous, but there was something about Quinn Hughes. It had to be his quiet nature, he was a mystery to you. He was always polite to you when you worked on him, almost too polite to where it was frustrating. A lot of the other guys, Petey included, treated you like a friend. With Quinn it was all business.

“You look hot,” Petey said bluntly and you laughed as Quinn elbowed him in the side.

“Thanks Petey,” you said sweetly. “When did you guys get here?”

”We just did,” Petey said. “Are you in a VIP section? I thought I saw you come out of one.”

“Yeah,” you said nodding to your friends and both the boys looked over. Petey gave you a confused look.

“How’d you manage that section? We had to beg to get a spot this weekend,” Petey said and you looked away, trying to figure out something to say. “You must know someone important.”

”Yeah, something like that,” you muttered before looking towards the bathroom. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Your best friend Anna was waiting for you when you got back, an eyebrow raised.

“Can I just say I’m very jealous that you get to work with men that look like that?” She said and you laughed. You followed her gaze to where a group of Canucks players were, settling on Quinn who was nursing a drink and listening intently to something Petey was saying.

“Yeah yeah,” you said back to her. “Let’s dance please.”

Anna called over a couple of other friends and you all made it to the dance floor. It felt good to stop thinking about work and other life things and just let go. By the end of the night you were stumbling out, after telling your friends goodbye. Standing on the sidewalk outside, you shivered as you waited for your Uber to pull up. A jacket was placed over your shoulders and you held it close to you, turning to its owner.

“Little cold for that outfit,” Quinn commented, looking unbothered without his jacket; his long sleeve quarterzip clung to his body.

“It was hot inside,” you said with a slight slur, stumbling as you turned to face him completely. His arms shot out to steady you, an amused smile on his face.

“Easy there,” he said.

“I feel like you don’t like me,” you said, the alcohol in your system deciding this was a great time to bring it up. His eyebrows furrowed at your words, lips turning into a frown.

“Why do you think that?” He asked and you sighed dramatically, moving your hands to his shoulders as you looked at him.

“Everyone jokes around with me besides you,” you complained. “Yeah you’re friendly but you are literally one second away from calling me ma’am. Everyone loves me but you.”

Quinn was amused by the pout on your face as you confessed this to him. His hands were resting gently on your waist and he allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment before disconnecting from you.

“I’m the captain y/n,” he said. “That means I have to set a good example for the team. Part of that example is having professional relationships with the staff, no matter how attractive a particular staff member might be.”

You blushed at his words but felt a wave of giddiness, “so you do think I’m attractive.”

Quinn’s cheeks tinted pink and you smiled wider.

“It’s okay Quinny, I won’t tell anyone,” you said cheerfully. “I guess I can live with this, it’s refreshing to have someone treat me like a normal person anyways.”

“What does that mean?” Quinn asked and you were saved by the bell: your Uber pulled up right as he asked. You ignored his question and pressed your lips to his cheek before climbing into the car.

—————————————————

Quinn was itching to get back on the ice; this hand injury business was driving him insane. In his mind, he was ready to be cleared, but the head athletic trainer disagreed. So here he was yet again, in the training room waiting to get evaluated.

“Hey Quinn, sorry I’m late,” you said, greeting him as you neared the table he was on. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, expecting to see your boss.

“Where’s Roman?” He asked.

“He’s in a meeting, so you are stuck with me,” you said with a teasing smile. After washing your hands you turned back to him, reaching out for him to put his hand in yours. Losing yourself in concentration as you looked him over, you didn’t notice how his breath hitched as you got into his space.

Your vanilla perfume smelled like heaven to Quinn and he was trying to look anywhere else besides at you. You bit your lip as you focused and Quinn wondered what they would feel like against his own lips. What would your hands feel like on other parts of him? He was lost in thought and flinched when you moved one of his fingers.

“Fuck,” he snapped and you smiled apologetically at him.

“I’m sorry, just trying to get an idea of the mobility right now.”

“I want to play,” he said, and you looked him in the eye, your heart sinking at the sad look he was giving you.

“I know, it is getting better,” you said and he deflated. “Maybe we can find some kind of brace that would work.”

“How long would that take?”

“Let me talk to Roman about it okay?” You said and he nodded but you could tell something else was going on. “It’s normal to want to get back immediately, but that’s why I’m here, to protect you.”

“I know,” he said, offering you a small smile. “The Petey/JT thing is getting worse and I feel like I’m not making an impact there and now I’m not on the ice.”

“They’re grown men, Quinn,” you said nonchalantly. “Maybe all you need to do is lock them in a room and not let them out until they figure it out.”

“Not a bad idea, thanks,” he said.

“I’m full of them,” you said cheerfully, grabbing your things. Quinn watched you leave, noticing that he was starting to get more flustered everytime he was around you.

“What’s on your mind Huggy?” Petey called out as Quinn walked back into the locker room. He was rubbing at his hand absentmindedly which didn’t go unnoticed by his teammate. “Have it looked at again?”

“Yeah, y/n thinks it won’t be long now,” he muttered, a slight pink tint covering his cheeks at the mention of you which made Petey grin.

“So y/n saw you,” he said casually.

“That’s her job,” Quinn replied, not giving in to where he knew Petey was going with this.

“She looked good the other night, don’t ya think?” Petey pressed and Quinn shot him a look.

“No fraternizing with Canucks employees,” Quinn recited from the HR handbook.

“Whatever man, don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at her the other night.”

————later that night———————-

The Canucks ended up pulling off a good win and the locker room was buzzing. Sometimes when other athletes or celebs attended the game they came to hang out afterwards, especially if it was a win. So Quinn wasn’t surprised to see some NFL players hanging around, especially since the ones there now weren’t in the playoffs.

“Quinn, meet Joe,” Petey said and Quinn turned to see Joe Burrow standing there. They shook hands in greeting, chatting a little bit about the Bengals season and mutual friends they had. Joe hung around until Quinn was leaving, following him out.

“Are you coming out with us?” Quinn asked and Joe shook his head.

“I’m actually here to surprise my friend,” he said and Quinn nodded as they walked.

“Does she work for the Canucks?” He asked.

“Yeah, she’s an athletic trainer,” Joe said and Quinn stopped; there was only one female on the athletic training staff.

“Y/n?” Quinn asked and Joe’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, do you know where I can find her?”

Quinn felt a weird sense of irritation at Joe’s excitement to see you and it took everything in him to not say no and leave him. He told Joe to follow him, leading them to the athletic training offices where he knew you’d be wrapping up.

“Joey!” He heard you squeal as you saw Joe.

“Hi angel,” Joe said, holding his arms out for you to jump into. You held him tight, tears filling your eyes as you took him in. He gave you a lazy grin, wiping one that had escaped down your cheek.

“Tears for me?” He joked and you hit him.

“Happy tears, I’ve missed you,” you said. You hadn’t seen him since the summer and it had been hard. You were glued to each other’s side in college and you followed him to Cincinnati so when you left, you both suffered a little bit.

Quinn was watching the interaction with a sour taste in his mouth. He did not like seeing another man holding you and before he could stop himself he stepped forward.

“Can you look at my hand y/n?” He asked randomly and you gave him a confused look.

“You didn’t play?”

“Someone bumped into me,” he mumbled, embarrassed but you didn’t notice, just sighing as you stepped away from Joe.

“Yeah let’s see it captain,” you said beckoning him into the training room. You turned to Joe, “wait for me?”

“Of course, I’ll be chilling by the locker room,” he told you and you smiled.

Quinn hopped up on the table and you looked over his hand.

“It literally looks the same,” you said looking up at him.

“It hurts,” he countered and you rolled your eyes. You grabbed a bottle of lotion and started to lightly massage around the sensitive areas.

“So how do you know Joe?” Quinn asked, trying to be casual.

“We went to college together,” you replied, not looking up. “I interned with the athletic training department my senior year and worked with him a bit and we just hit it off.”

“So you’re just friends?” He asked and your head snapped up, a small smirk on your lips.

“Why, jealous?” You asked and he scoffed, looking away. “Is that why you dragged me in here to look at your hand that I literally looked at earlier today?”

Quinn didn’t say anything and you smiled wider, “what happened to staying professional to be an example? What would your teammates think about you faking an injury to hang out with an athletic trainer?”

”I don’t like you,” he said pouting and you wiped the excess lotion off on your jeans.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Let’s go captain.”

He followed you out of the room and back down the hall. Joe was talking with some other players but lit up when he saw you again.

“Ready?” He asked and you nodded.

“Not coming out with us?” Petey asked Joe who shook his head.

“Nah, we’ve got a whole season of House of Dragon to catch up on,” he said and you beamed. You said bye to the boys and left with Joe. Petey shot an amused look at Quinn.

“Not a word.”

———————————

“I’m exhausted, see you in the morning?” You asked Joe, who was sprawled out on your couch.

“Yeah, then you can tell me what’s going on with you and Quinn,” he said nonchalantly and you froze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly, cleaning off the coffee table and not making eye contact with him.

“Sure, angel,” he said. “I’ll just pretend that I didn’t notice you looking at him like he was a god.”

“I don’t look at him like that,” you snapped back and Joe grinned.

“Touchy subject?”

“We work together Joe, nothing could happen,” you said, sighing. “Plus we don’t really even know each other that well.”

“You mean he doesn’t know that he could play professional hockey for the next ten years and still not come even close to having as much money as you do?” He asked and you threw a pillow at him.

“People get weird when they know who my family is, you know that,” you said and he gave you a sad smile. Your dad had worked so incredibly hard for everything he had and you were proud of him. You wouldn’t trade your family for the world, but you had a lifetime of people only being friends with you because of your wealth so it was a touchy subject. When Lance made it to F1, it only got worse, now you had people who wanted you for your money AND access to your brother.

“But you like him,” Joe said and you sighed.

“A little, yeah,” you admitted. “I like how I can be myself around him, he’s a good listener, and the way he leads the team is attractive.”

Joe smiled at you, “I’m happy for you, y/n. Don’t get in your own way.”

————-Canadian Grand Prix——————-

It had been a few months since you had admitted your crush on Quinn to Joe but nothing had really happened. He got over his injury so you saw him less at first but as you got closer to the team, you saw him at social events a lot. The energy between the two of you had definitely been flirty but he hadn’t made any kind of move.

“It’s like he’s scared to be alone with me,” you complained to your sister Chloe, after she picked you up from the airport.

“That’s a good thing then,” your sister said. “It means he doesn’t trust himself around you.”

You rolled your eyes, “well I’m tired of it.”

“You know he’s going to be here this weekend right?” She asked and you nodded. The Canucks had a game in Montreal, and since it was the same weekend as the GP, a few players had been invited to the paddock, Quinn included.

“In the Alpine garage though, so it doesn’t matter,” you said and she smirked.

“Well I can’t wait to meet him,” she said. “Better hope he doesn’t run into Lance.”

You stopped cold, “What do you mean? How does Lance even know about him?”

“Oh it’s just come up a couple of times,” your sister said. “It’s been a while since you had an interesting crush so I was excited.”

“You are the worst,” you complained. You prayed that they wouldn’t cross paths.

Unfortunately, your wish did not come true.

Quinn and Petey were walking around the paddock when Petey stopped what appeared to be two drivers who were walking nearby.

“Esteban man, good to see you,” Petey said, dapping him up. How Petey knew all these random athletes was a mystery to Quinn.

“Hey Elias,” Esteban said. Petey introduced Quinn to Esteban and Esteban introduced the other driver. “This is Lance.”

Lance eyed Quinn curiously and Esteban caught on, laughing loudly.

“So you’re friends with y/n?” Lance asked and Quinn stiffened in surprise.

“Our athletic trainer? Yeah I guess,” he said awkwardly.

“If you ever make her cry I will end your career,” Lance said and Quinn shot Petey a confused look.

“Okay? I’m not sure how that would be any of your business, even if there was something going on,” Quinn said. Esteban looked at him in wonder before realizing what was going on.

“Oh my, he doesn’t know,” Esteban said, smirking at Lance, who was still glaring at Quinn.

“Know what?” Petey asked.

“That y/n is my sister,” Lance said and Quinn felt all the blood drain from his face. Y/n was a Stroll? The girl he had a crush on was worth billions and now her brother, her famous F1 brother, was glaring daggers at him. Petey burst out laughing at the revelation and Esteban looked incredibly amused.

Of course, this was the moment that you chose to appear, seeing the back of your brother and not who he was talking to.

“Lance!” You yelled excitedly. He turned around to face you and you frowned at the sour look on his face but when your eyes met Petey’s you had a good idea who else was there.

Quinn was frowning at you and your heart sank at the look of betrayal he was giving you.

“Hi y/n,” Lance said, pulling you in for a hug. “Met some of your friends here.”

”I can see that,” you muttered. Petey was giving you a cheeky look but Quinn wouldn’t meet your eyes. Lance launched into conversation with Esteban and Petey but both you and Quinn stayed silent. As the drivers were called off to get ready for a practice run, you stayed with Petey and Quinn.

“I’m going to head back to the garage,” Petey said and you nodded, not taking your eyes off of Quinn. He left and the two of you stood in front of each other, neither saying anything.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and you deflated. “I don’t like feeling like you were hiding something from me.”

“I wasn’t hiding it from you, it just didn’t come up,” you argued and he gave you a look. “Just because I don’t go around telling everyone who my dad is doesn’t mean I was keeping it a secret.”

Quinn let out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?” He asked and you nodded. You led him to the Aston Martin garage, smiling at your brother’s team members as you entered and headed towards his drivers room. He was about to be on the track so you knew it would be open.

Shutting the door behind him, Quinn looked at you as you stood nervously before him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked softly.

“Because I liked being a normal person in your life,” you said and he tilted his head, indicating for you to go on. “I’m not a normal person Quinn. My family is worth almost $4 billion. I can’t go out with my family without being mobbed by the press. I don’t have a ton of friends, because most people that I meet just want to use me.”

“I didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you finished, your voice quiet, almost fragile. “I didn’t want you to see me as just that girl—the one with the famous family, the one who’s always surrounded by people who want something from her.”

Quinn stood still for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he stepped closer. Slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“You think I’d see you that way?” His voice was soft but firm. “All I see is a woman who is smart, funny, and makes it difficult to focus. That’s still all I see when I look at you now.”

”Then why haven’t you done anything?” You asked, frustrated. “You’ve had to have known that I have feelings for you.”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips, “HR policy.”

Groaning, you laid your head on his chest.

”You are so irritating,” you complained. “This means that you were actually jealous when Joe visited, right?”

Quinn rolled his eyes, “I didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

“He’s my best friend Quinn,” you said, looking up at him.

”I don’t have to like it,” he argued and you smirked.

“You quite literally do have to like him if you want to be with me,” you countered.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, burying his head into your shoulder as your arms wrapped around him. You sighed into his touch, happy to have finally figured this part of your life out and feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Quinn pulled back, looking at you with an amused face.

“What?” You asked.

“This means that you are officially my sugar mama,” he teased and you snorted.

“Whatever captain,” you said and you lifted up your feet to press your lips against his. The kiss was everything you imagined it would be: soft, but filled with a lot of emotions. His hand moved down to grip your waist as the kiss deepened and your hands fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. You were just about to tug it up when the door banged open.

“Are you fucking serious right now y/n?” Lance complained. You giggled as you pulled back, shielding Quinn from your brother’s irritation.

“Sorry Lancey,” you said with a sweet smile. His eyes softened at you and he rolled his eyes, stepping away.

”You’re setting me up for failure,” Quinn murmured in your ear and you laughed.

”You set yourself up for being on the Canucks and not the Canadiens.”

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ childhood best friend ♡︎ chan.

── .✦ the one where bang chan learns what 'home' means. #우리의_찬란한_청춘_방찬에게 #BrightestStarBangChan

✰ gn!reader, idol!chan, fluff!!!, angst 🙁, childhood best friends, long distance friendship, homesickness, hurt/comfort, ambiguous romance [pining/crushes], open ending. end notes included! ❤︎ all sfw. intentional lowercase. wc: 1,800+

🧸 childhood best friend chan who moves in next door, who came from seoul to sydney and was scared he wouldn't meet anyone his age.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is the only one to attend your birthday party. he flashes you a grin and tries to cheer you up by saying, "that just means more cake for us!"

🧸 childhood best friend chan who introduces himself as christopher— but you can call him chris, he says hastily. he knows his full name is too long. you assure him no, it's okay, you'll call him christopher. he rewards you with another one of his signature dimpled smiles. the first of many.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who spends most of his summers with you. his next door neighbor, his new best friend. he tries to teach you how to play soccer. you burn songs you think he'll like on to CDs. the two of you learn to bike down your street. see? you both still have the scars to prove it.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose fondest memories with you are set in beaches. you're both still too young to surf, so you kill your time trying to outswim each other. it's a tender rotation of portraits— hands sticky with fruit-flavored ice cream, sand in your slippers, the smell of sunscreen.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash guitar teacher. you spend one too many evenings out on his porch with his beat-up acoustic guitar. as his fingers gently guide yours over the strings, you consider romance. but for only a moment. because you'd rather have him like this than risk not having him at all.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sticks to your side at school. everyone thinks you're dating; the two of you give up on correcting peers. chan doesn't quite understand why he's so happy to have people assume, and why he's even happier to have you acquiesce.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, first, about what he plans to do. "it's just an audition," he tells you, but you already know. you already know what he's destined for, who he's going to be, as early as then.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who practices his bruno mars audition song with you over and over and over again until you forget what the original version sounds like. nowadays, whenever you hear just the way you are, it's only ever in the voice of thirteen-year-old christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who calls you up excitedly, who only says two words. "i'm in," he breathes, and there's so many things you can say in that moment. of course you are, and i never doubted you, and you're leaving me?, but instead you settle on, "i'm proud of you."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't cry at the family dinner. doesn't cry at the airport. he laughs when you tear up, teases that you're being silly. think of it as summer camp, he tells you, and when he hugs you goodbye, his hands shake just a teensy bit.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who cries on the plane— because at least, there, no one who loves him will see.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash trainee who keeps in touch. he texts a lot in those first couple of years. you'd like this café. these cherry blossoms look really good. dance practice today was tiring. you learn to read between the lines; he is saying i miss you, but he cannot say the words themselves, because then it becomes real.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never misses a birthday, whether its yours or someone in your family's. shipping fees are too stressful and so he perfects the art of long-distance gift-giving. here, an 8tracks playlist. here, a digital flipbook. here, a video of him singing your favorite song.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who gets busy, who gets frustrated, who watches dozens of trainees debut before him. you try your darnedest to sympathize but there is only so much that you can know about this industry, about his lifestyle.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never blames you. how could he? he made his choice. but still. but still. there are days, weeks, months, where he forces himself to keep his distance. because this is a whole other kind of hurting— saying goodbye and knowing that the door is still left open a crack.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who watches your life in pictures, in the squares of instagram photos, the tagged posts on facebook. you graduate high school, and then uni. you work part-time jobs. you finally learn how to surf. and he is proud, and he is hurt, and he is yours, still, in ways that neither of you can comprehend.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, after being distant for what feels like forever, extends an olive branch in the form of a follow request. finstas are only just becoming a thing in his part of the world. every trainee has one. the first person he thinks to follow is you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who starts reacting to your stories, who replies every so often. your haircut looks nice and how's your mum? and wow, that part of town has changed a lot. it's all so stilted, all so polite, but he's trying, he's trying, he's trying. he needs you to see that.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finally calls you one evening to tell you everything. you are horrified by what he's gone through, by all the times he's been passed over, but chan reassures you. even as you apologize, again and again, for not knowing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, "i chose this. i want to keep choosing it. but—" a beat. then, softly, the words he's held himself back from saying. "i just miss you, that's all."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who slots right back in to your life. he's still plenty busy. at least now he knows that you're always just one message away, that you'll appreciate his updates of i met another aussie today or there's a new day6 song or i can finally stop dieting.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who excitedly tells you about 3racha. about his genius lyricist j.one and his killer rapper spearb. his own moniker is plain and simple, he says with a laugh. cb97. but it's him, it's his, it's a start.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sends you the first demo of a song he's genuinely happy to have produced. my heart is in your hands, he jokes in the e-mail subject line. j.one is good. so is spearb. but chan, cb97, your christopher, who sings "i'd like to start off this speech with a 'thank you' to everyone that helped little chris to grow up"? he's everything.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you in vague terms that he might not be reachable for some time. there's a lot of things he wants to tell you, wants to divulge. there are other people on the line, now, though, and so he holds back. you understand. you tell him you'll wait. he is so, so grateful.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is introduced as the leader of JYPE's newest boy group. he is not christopher or chris. he is chan, now. bang chan. you watch the survival show with his family. you give them a handwritten letter for him, when they go to visit him in south korea. you see him become everything he said he would be.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose hair is two-toned dirty blonde and aqua blue when he debuts with hellevator. you buy his photocard. you still have it up in your room; it makes him cringe, but he is secretly pleased that you cared enough to do such a small thing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who bears the weight of impossible expectations. leader, producer, idol. son, brother. friend. he is so many things all at once. they say he is too much. they say he is not enough. he doesn't know who to listen to.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who blames himself for things that are beyond his control. for 2019. for 2020. for 2021. for— there isn't a year where chan isn't blaming himself for something, really.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finds comfort in the smallest of things. a noisy dorm with seven other boys. the thrill of turning a note in to a living, breathing song. you. your little updates. you. your easy responses. you. your unwavering support. you, you, you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wonders often sometimes what it would have been like if he stayed.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who can see it so, so clearly. the college you would have both gone to. working at the record store; busking in the mall. summers of surf and sun. your fingers fitting in to the spaces between his.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who thinks he would have been happy with that life. happier than right now?... he's not sure. all he knows is that he would have been happy. the two of you could have been so happy.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who often sometimes feel like his youth was taken from him. his teenage years were spent as a trainee; his early twenties were spent fighting for every scrap. he doesn't regret the choices he made. he doesn't want to. he can't.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't tell you any of this. a part of him doesn't have to. you know just how much he gave up. you know just how much he gained. you know why there are certain encores that make him cry, why there are songs he can't bear to perform live. why it's always so hard for him to name 'home' nowadays—

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wants to believe that 'home' means sydney. who, to make things easier, says 'home' is seoul. who will sometimes say that 'home' is STAY, 'home' is stray kids. who knows, deep down, that home is a three-letter word of y-o-u.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, when he makes his way back to sydney, is scared shitless. he's been gone for so long. it's an endless litany of 'what if's. what if berry doesn't recognize him anymore. what if all his favorite restaurants have shut down. what if you realize you don't like the person he's become. what if, what if.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is only partially reassured when he realizes there's still a spot for him at the dinner table, when his old friends don't treat him any differently, when the path to the park still feels familiar.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who realizes that all of his worries are unfounded when you greet him with "long time no see, christopher." not chan. not chris. christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who smiles the same way that he had when he first met you. all bright eyes and dimples.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who holds out his hand, waiting to see if you'll take it.

✰ i think a lot about a line in The Myth of Sisyphus, where it goes something along the lines of "one must imagine sisyphus happy." in some way, this is me #coping (lol). one must imagine bang chan happy. because maaan, does he deserve it. happy birthday, chris.

[seaformoon]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Soft spot

c/w: Nothing muchhh.. fluff.. slightest angst and age gap.. youre damn oblivious... bada has a soft spot for you..

a/n: hi, im here again. be kind.. i dont write much.. also didn't proof read hehe... yall, i dont ever proof read

────────────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────────────

────────────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────────────

"dammit, full already?" you tried booking a slot to enter bada's dance class this week. it was summer break and you had nothing much planned.

besides, you don't feel comfortable traveling alone to far places from home. so you decide to enter a few dance classes. you weren't THAT good at dancing but you loved it. its hitting 2 birds with one stone.

"why is it so hard booking a dance class—"

"you seem troubled, honey." your bestfriend, Kirsten, chuckled seeing how frustrated you looked. "whats the matter?"

"booking bada's dance class is hard. i would go to yours but your punkass would just make fun of me."

"yea, I would actually."

you rolled your eyes, trying to look for other classes.

"if you want it that bad, maybe i could talk to bada to get you a slot."

wait what. you freeze for a second and slowly look at Kirsten with a cheeky grin.

"...PLEASE. I'D DO ANYTHING."

"why do you want to go to her class so bad anyways?"

you did look through other classes but every dance teacher was a man. not to be a hater but you felt more comfortable with a woman.

"i dunno... you said she was an amazing teacher and i could use it." you lied. for no reason actually. kirsten knows you too well but she doesn't push the topic further.

———

a day passed and kirsten got a slot for you. it was easy since she and bada are friends.

"girl. i got it. friday, 5pm, don't be late, yeah?"

you jumped in happiness and lunged at kirsten. "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!"

"ew get off me." she feigned annoyance but still hugged you back with a smile.

"you owe me."

"oh. owe you what?"

"i don't know. but maybe you'll finally let me set you up a date for your single ass"

you blinked, tilting your head. you never really thought of dating since you were more focused on finishing your course.

"date?—"

"you know, im actually doing you a favor."

kirsten chuckled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "you have a big heart, have a lot of love to give. trust me."

she kissed your forehead and left to go somewhere with her friends. you were left standing inside your apartment, your eyebrows raised with innocence and curiosity.

———

it's finally friday and you quietly enter the dance studio with your head down and you were just in time when your name was called.

"y/n?"

bada called out in the middle of people huddled for attendance checking.

"here." you mumbled. man, could you have said that any quieter?

"y/n? is y/n here?"

"here!" you mentally facepalmed at how weird you are. not a good start. bada turned her cold gaze on you. "you're late."

you winced to yourself and apologetically bowed before setting your things down. you stayed at the back, struggling a bit because you were sure you were quite short compared to the people in the room.

the class continued and an hour later, the class ended and you stayed behind after everyone left to apologize to bada. you slowly approached her and cleared your throat to get her attention.

"Hm?" she hummed in acknowledgement while packing her things up.

"im sorry... it's my first time going to a dance class and it was a bit far from my house– and it was traffic—"

"that's your fault. you signed up for this dance class and you were informed with the time. its your responsibility to go arrive early. am i right or am i right?"

you almost grumbled in annoyance. i mean she was right. but like??? where's the consideration? where's the kindness? you hated being called out or scolded and it took you every muscle to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"sorry, bada." was all you could say. your voice strained trying to hide the irritation you were feeling.

she fought back the small smile forming on her lips. "im older than you, aren't I? I expect you to at least use honorifics." she scolded and left without batting an eye on you.

once the door clicked close, you stomp your foot, rolling your eyes.

"what the fuck? i was only 5 minutes late! how dare she? it's not she's never been late in her whole damn life! i dont understand how much shes fucking annoying and cold– and for what too!? and—"

before you could continue ranting to yourself, you freeze, hearing a soft chuckle behind you. you prayed to every God that it wasn't bada.

and it worked?

it was lusher. she eyed you up and down, looking at you with amusement.

"bada unnie is quite the tough one, isn't she? don't worry, she's always like that. dont take it to heart."

"yeah, but did she have to say all the shit? could've said it nicer. i hate being scolded and i know that sounds childish but you know i have a point."

lusher laughed and pat your back. "calm it. y/n, right?"

"... you aren't going to tell on me, right?"

she ignored your question and picked her things up. "nice meeting you. hope to see you next time." and then she left.

you hoped lusher would keep quiet.

.............

"—and damn! that cutie has a mouth. she was so annoyed with you, bada unnie, it was too funny actually."

bada snickered, picking up a piece of shrimp with her chopsticks.

"i know. i could feel it."

"she's cute though, right? your type, if im guessing. you'd look good together."

bada got caught off guard and choked on her shrimp. silence followed and team BEBE looked at each other before turning their gazes on bada. bada looked the other way, drinking water as she fanned herself with her shirt.

....

—"oh my god..."

——"she's your type isn't she!"

—"you like her???"

——"out of everyone, a girl who wasn't even trying caught your fancy?"

—"she hates you though."

"what??? no. it–... you just caught me off guard..." bada mumbled, looking down at her food.

"nah. don't hide it. its okay."

—"it's not your fault that you're so damn gay." sowoen commented, earning a flick on the forehead from bada.

"just- let me handle this, okay? ive never felt this way for anyone and I don't know how to react."

the girls started making cooing sounds, hearing their cold leader say such words for the first time.

———

you did learn and get better at dancing because of bada. so despite her attitude, you keep attending.

after a few weeks of attending bada's lessons, you start noticing how she's starting to pay more attention to you. i mean, it is her job to teach, right?

nah, you're just so oblivious, it amazes bada and the rest of BEBE. because so far, bada used every excuse.

every excuse to talk to you...

"do i look fine?"

...

"hey y/n, what's the time?" bada asks, with a watch on her left wrist.

to touch you...

"hey, there's something on your face." she proceeds to wipe nonexistent dirt from your face.

...

"y/n, your position is wrong." bada puts her hands on your hips, fixing your position.

to mark you as hers...

"y/n, that's the wrong color of shirt. its supposed to be white."

"but you said yesterday–"

"here, take my shirt." she then hands you a white shirt drenched in her perfume that she 'conveniently' had.

...

"do you need a hair tie?"

"no, im good. i have my own."

bada grabs your wrist and puts her hair tie around it. "just in case. dont lose it."

to see you...

"y/n, come here to the front, you're short. i need to make sure everyone does the right moves."

...

bada rings the doorbell to yours and kirsten's shared apartment. she smiles the slightest when you open the door, seeing you in your comfy clothes. you looked like the cutest morning kitten.

"kirsten told me to drop of snacks."

you nod and reach out to take the paper bag full of snacks but then kirsten speaks up. "no, i didn't? you were the one who asked what y/n's favorite snacks were—"

bada immediately grabs the doorknob to shut the door, her face flushed as she quickly walks away.

"dammit, kirsten." she groans.

needless to say, bada is hopelessly in love with you and with all those encounters with her, your dumbass is still oblivious.

you thought it was just her being nice for once. maybe too nice. but in your book, there's no such thing as 'too nice'

———

you put on last touches of your lipstick, checking yourself out in the mirror before heading out to your date that kirsten set up for you.

you come out and see haechi wang.

"oh, hi! are you my date?"

"yea, princess, i am. lets go?" haechi holds a hand out.

you smile brightly, taking her hand.

minutes later, the date was going well and haechi was nothing but a gentlewoman. you just dont seem to feel sparks or butterflies which from research, you're supposed to feel.

you knew better than to lead haechi on so you explained to her and you both talked it out and agreed on just staying as friends.

"hey, isn't that y/n?" lusher narrows her eyes to focus on you while she tugs on tatter's shirt.

they were about to leave, finishing their dinner date.

"oh, yeah. that is y/n."

...

"...with haechi wang."

"...with haechi wang."

both girls looked at each other, feeling sad for bada.

"we should tell bada..."

so they did. and bada took it well.

and by 'it', i mean the alcohol she's downing in her apartment.

———

tatter reached for the bottle. "bada unnie, wait– you shouldn't–"

"NO! let go of–.. of my hands.. don't touch me."

bada sobbed, a bottle of soju in her hand and the other on her eyes. you were the only one she ever loved, the only one she was desperate for, the one she wanted, the one she needed. and now you're in a date with someone else.

"fuckin haechi– sh' stealin my girl.."

she stood up, stumbling to the bedroom with her phone and alcohol.

"bada unnie, c'mon, give me that bottle."

"NO. let out.. let you gays out. want you not here..." man, how can someone be this drunk dumb. nevertheless, she managed to shoo lusher and tatter away.

bada opened her phone fumbling with it, seeing you on her wallpaper. she opened your chat and without the right mind she spammed your phone with drunken texts.

"why"

"why yo do thar"

"i love yoi and you date hazcchi?,?:("

"hste you so mch"

"npooo"

"i didnt mean that"

she sighed, covering her eyes with her arm. 'god, i look pathetic..' she thought

by the time your date with haechi ended, you only realized the text messages that bada spammed. you were one oblivious girl but you're definitely not that dumb to not know that bada is drunk.

you went back home and the moment you open the door, you immediately get bombarded with questions from kirsten. you didn't even have 1 foot in the apartment yet.

"HEYYY GIRLLL?? how was it? you guys kiss? you like her? you want her??? when's the weddin–"

"kirsten, where does bada unnie live? im worried.."

she looked confused, silent for a bit. she gave you a look that urged you to continue speaking and give her context.

"she's drunk. just please, drive me to her place?"

kirsten worried and had a lot of questions but decided to save them for later. she grabbed her keys and walked to the parking lot with you. you sat on the passenger seat, already impatient as kirsten went inside the car and started the engine.

a few minutes later, you arrived at a tall apartment building and you followed behind kirsten. she ringed the doorbell and lusher opened the door.

"y/n? kirsten?"

"where's bada unnie?" you asked. you were nervous and you kept fiddling with the hair tie on your wrist. bada's hair tie. but thats besides the point right now-

lusher's eyes darts between you and the bedroom door.

"uh, she's in there. in the bedroom... drunk."

"i know.." you mumbled and walked your way inside the bedroom, leaving kirsten, tatter, and lusher in the living room. they knew you were going handle it better than anyone could so they decided to leave and leave everything in your hands.

you were met by a drunk bada chugging on a bottle of soju while leaning her back on the headboard. "whoa whoa– hey, stop that."

before bada could make sense of anything, you rushed to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the bottle which she had a tight grip on.

"you.. why you here." she huffed, pulling the bottle to her chest and you reached to get the bottle from her completely.

"stop that, you're drunk as hell."

she sniffled, turning her back on you. "why do you care, go to your haechi jang bang wang or whatever, i dont care."

that was adorable.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her. she looked like a big baby, sulking and pouting with her back turned on you. you put the bottle of alcohol on the nightstand and reached out to wrap your arms around her waist from behind, pulling her closer to you.

she looked down at your arms, dumbfounded. and damn the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach. no, she felt like its a whole damn zoo living in there. she didn't know how to react to it.

you caress her stomach and made her lay back on your front while you leaned back on the headboard. you placed gentle kisses on top of her head, "you're so cute when you're like this."

bada squirmed in your arms, wanting to pull away but she was too drunk to have any strength at the moment.

"no... no." she mumbled, her voice slurred and soft, "i dont want your comfort.. I'm mad.. I'm mad at you."

you buried your face on her back, sighing as you did so.

"why are you mad at me?” you asked softly. dumb question to ask actually.

bada sniffled some more and continued squirming, trying to break free from your arms. "because... because you... why with hae–.." she paused with a hiccup. “why were you with her?"

you tilted your head, confused as to how she knew your date with haechi but you just answered her question, "kirsten set me up with her.. but we're just friends. just friends, okay?"

she sniffled and turned to face you, her nose red and her face blushed with drunkness. "just friends bullshit.."

"unnie..."

"that's bullshit.. bullshit, y/n. bull-fucking-shit. bull-"

"cut that out." you said, cutting her off.

"...bullshit." she mumbled quietly and softly, looking down at her lap.

"unnie, just rest first."

god, she couldn't take it anymore.

"dammit, y/n, i like you. cant you see that?" bada blurted out her confession as if her mouth was a dam that no one could stop. i mean, you already put that together but hearing it from her felt fresh. it felt real.

"for months, y/n, for months! and I don't fucking know if you're just that goddamn oblivious or if you're just playing dumb to avoid hurting my feelings but fucking hell, y/n.. i can't take it anymore..."

you just stared at her in silence, trying to put your thoughts in order. you knew those feelings you pushed down for months were crawling their way out of the depths of your head.

"say something... please." she looked up from her lap and down at you, tears flowing down once again.

you pulled her in your arms with ease as she had no more energy to do anything else but to succumb into the feeling of being in your arms. even if she knew that it might not last for long.

"there's.. there's no other way to say it so I'll just put it out there.." you paused for a bit when you felt her move closer, half of her body on top of you as she buried her face into the crook of your neck.

"i like you too."

she froze but before she could react, you kept talking. "I don't want to talk about this when you're drunk. not when there's a possibility that you could forget everything the next morning."

you caress her head, your arms wrapped around her body. you felt her body tense from all the feelings and information she was getting right now. she was drunk, but she knew better. i think.

"...then stay with me. stay with me, y/n. i wont forget this. but if i do, you being here with me will remind me of it. that's all i need."

bada pulls back from your neck, enough to look up at you. "...please, y/n."

her eyes glistened as she looked at you, searching your eyes for any sign of acceptance while her arms pulled herself closer to you. you knew your answer from the very start but you didn't mind the sight you're seeing right now.

"i'll stay with you, okay? i won't let you go."

she hid her face by nuzzling it up your chest which was hella cute. "...promise me." she mumbled, her voice muffled.

"i promise. now sleep, bada unnie... you need to rest after all that."

she nodded, letting out a cute sound and you could only hold her close, caressing her head and body... running your fingers through her hair. it was weird. you were younger, much younger. and you never really saw this side of bada.

"damn, i feel like im babysitting." you muttered under your breath but you weren't really complaining. suddenly, you felt her arms and legs squeezing you more as a soft whine escaped her throat.

"mmnnhh.. hey.. that's not a nice thing to say..." her voice pouty.

you chuckled and kissed her forehead, resting your chin on top of her head. "just sleep. 'ts been quite the night."

she huffed and just rubbed her cheek on your chest, letting out adorable sounds here and there.

there was a comfortable silence but then your eyes landed on something on the wall infront of her desk.

"...hey, are those pictures of me?"

oh fuck.

────────────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─────────────

a/n: thoughts?

[t3ag3rs]

i loved your bakugo headcanons omg, the joy i feel when someone writes for characters and actually includes their canonical personalities lol idk if you write for any other characters, if you don't then you can just ignore this, but if you do then could you write similar relationship headcanons for Kirishima or Shinso? :3

hi! im so glad you enjoyed my Bakugou headcannons! I hope this kirishima one fits to your liking! sending lots of love <33

i definitely think kirishima first ends up seeing you talking to mina on a random day. you and her are just talking about dance when you two are suddenly interrupted by the outgoing redhead inquiring about who you are.

he suddenly realizes that you had went to junior high with them but had never really hung out with the popular group due to having a close circle of friends- one of whom is mina.

"actually? I never saw you..!" he chuckled rubbing his neck with a slight blush, you just wave it off with a quick smile, "nah dont worry bout it.."

well fuck... now at least kirishima knows what exactly he likes the most about you. your gut wrenching, heart pumping, adorable ass smile.

would immediately try and get mina to help him out with you in every. single. way.

"mina, whats her favorite color? And chocolate? To add to that thought- flowers as well. god mina I sound desperate!"

poor baby is so whipped for you he actually cant even manage to hide it in front of you.

kirishimas the type of person to rant to his friends about you with absolutely no knowledge about his surroundings. so much so that he doesnt realize you can hear him occasionally..

do you mind? of course not! its not like you dont have a small- okay fine. major thing for the red head as well...

"kiriiiii..!" groans mina, "stop obsessing over her and just confess goddamnt!" she exclaims frustrated while throwing her hands in the air.

"tell who what?" you grin overhearing their conversation.

you look at the two confused before mina starts, "you see y/n, kirishima here has a-" until you see a hand slapped over her mouth.

"nothing!" grins kirishima quickly. you nod slowly before you see mina side eyeing him with a knowing glance. "fine.." sighs kirishima dropping his hands.

"as i was saying.. our little man over here has a fat crush on you" she says nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. you immediately break out a shit eating grin, "oh- yeah i kinda know.. he isnt very good at hiding things..." you chuckle.

"why didnt you say anything!" whines kirishima, "you couldve saved me so much time and effort!" completely forgetting that you hadnt given an answer to his confession.

"because i thought it was cute.." you admit with slightly flushed cheeks. you look away to avoid making eye contact before you feel kirishimas hands wrapping around your torso.

"so you like me back then right? please say that means you like me back.." he exclaims happily into your neck.

you just smile and wrap your arms back around him to give him his answer.

[strangelysamantha]

wasted ☆

jj maybank x fem!reader.

warnings: infidelity, swearing, alcohol.

words: 1,093.

summary: “you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?” in which jj makes a grave mistake cheating on you.

request? no.

a/n: i have so many good ideas deep in my drafts. im about to blow up your feed mwahahahha.

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

you desperately needed air, the smell of liquor, cigarettes, and blaring music completely overwhelmed your senses, you couldn't find jj which didn't help at all. all you wanted to do was settle into bed, but instead you were trapped at a house party. you were getting tired of the partying, every time the night was close to coming to an end, jj would find something to get worked up about. he would be screaming at you about drama that had sparked. it was exhausting that jj always had a problem, whether it was because you had accepted a drink from a guy, or was dancing to close to someone you didn't even care about. you tried multiple doors, trying to find a quiet place, however all of them were locked.

of course, the one that wasn't locked was occupied. you swing the door open, seeing two bodies entangled together, sweaty and moaning. you were going to shut it when you noticed it was jj in bed. his blonde hair messy as small groans fell from his mouth. "what the actual fuck jj?" you yelled, holding back your tears. as if the night couldn't have gotten any worse, of course jj had found a dumb tourist to feed his needs. before the party, you mentioned to jj that you weren't feeling it, he was upset by this. he made it a big issue before ultimately storming off. you weren't going to go; you told him as much. but seeing how angry he got; you felt obligated to make an appearance.

now regretting even leaving the house, you watch jj scramble to put his clothes back on. the entire show being sickening to see. you decided you didn't even want to hear his excuses. maybe he got too drunk, maybe he wanted revenge, maybe he was just done. you rush downstairs, running into kiara. she apologizes before realizing its you. "hey is everything okay?" you laugh, the whole situation seeming so unreal its funny. "just walked in on jj plowing a tourist. i'm getting out of here." her mouth flies open, "what?" she follows after you, worried to leave you alone. she hops into your car, and the two of you drive to her house, assuming jj would go to yours to try and salvage the relationship.

in kiaras room you lay down on her bed, your body becoming numb. "i mean. i got with jj maybank. did i really think i'd be that special?" you sigh. kiara frowns at your words. "it's not your fault. that is so unfair to you, he knows better than that." you glance down at your phone, seeing a bunch of missed calls and texts from him. "im just mad because i know i'll lose all my friends too." kiara rubs your arm, "you still have me." you smile softly, "thank you, i don't know what i'd be doing without you." your comment was cut off by kiaras phone. "it's jj, should i answer?" you shrug, "might as well. put it on speaker." she pressed accept, immediately putting jj on speaker. "i fucked up kie, i don't know what to do." she wanted to act oblivious to see how jj would explain the situation. "what happened jj?" he mentions you, "we had a big fight before the party. i drowned my frustration with booze. i met a tourist and it was so easy. i let my guard down." kiaras face forms with disgust by his words. she doesn't respond, letting him continue. "she walked in on me fucking someone else. she'll hate me. she'll want nothing to do with me kie, what do i do?" kiara hums, "well you cheated jj." her words stung him, "there is nothing you can do. if she's done with you after this, you'll just have to accept it."

"i have to see her. do you know where she went?" kiara sighs, "no, i haven't seen her. i'm back at mine now, about to go to bed." jj groans, "alright, thanks." he immediately hangs up and kiara scoffs. "please tell me you don't plan on getting back with him." you shake your head. "i can't." she nods understandingly. "besides the fact he literally cheated; all we do is fight anyway. it's too exhausting."

"well i'm here for you, anything you need." you smile, thankful you'd still have a friend after this. "i'm going to head back home, if i run into him i'm going to end it. otherwise i'm going to bed." kiara ushers a goodnight softly, "make it home safe. and keep me updated."

you gently shut her door, heading downstairs. you get into your car, starting it up and driving back home. jj calls you again on your drive home, you reluctantly answer. you stay silent. "can we please talk?" he questions. "im just now on my way home. im too tired jj." he sighs, "im already at your house." you mouth forms into a line, annoyance running through your veins. "alright." you hang up, pulling into your driveway, you noticed him sitting at the end of the driveway. you hop out of your car walking up to him.

he quickly stands up. "look i'm so sorry. i can't even put into words how bad i feel." you scoff, "i don't really care anymore jj." he takes a deep breath, "please it was a huge mistake." you look over, "that's the problem jj. we had a fight, and you lashed out. i don't want to worry about what you'll do if i upset you. if you'll retaliate by sleeping with someone else, or if you'll fight someone, or whatever you'll do just because were on the rocks." he shakes his head, "it won't be like that, i don't want that to be our relationship-" you are quick to cut him off, "there is no more relationship jj." his heart sinks, "no please, we can work this out." you sigh, tears dropping from your eyes. "you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?" he was extremely apologetic, "i was drunk, and angry, and i wasn't thinking. i didn't want to hurt you. i regret it so bad. im really sorry." you quickly wipe your tears, "all i see when i look at you is seeing you in bed with that stranger. and that makes me sick. i can't look at you the same jj. we are done." before he can respond you turn away, walking into your house, locking the door behind you.

[jammiee097]

Night out

Summary: You and your two friend went out for a night at the club, not knowing were you would end up ..

Warnings: Bestfriend! Han x reader, Bestfriend! Jeongin x reader, toilet sex, p in v, unprotected sex, 2 guys in the same night, FWB, perv! jeong!n x reader, Car sex, kinda public sex, I think that was it, let me know if I forgot something

Enjoy!!!

it was supposed to be any other night out, you would go out with your best mates, Jeongin and Han and just have fun through the evening.

You didn't know if it was the alchol, the many shots you guys have or the wat they were wearing, but you got extremely horny from the two of them. So horny that exactly 20 minutes later you would be riding Han's dick in the club bathroom..

it all happened when "Ride from Sir mix-a-lot" came on and you started pushing your butt against Han, it was just dancing you told yourselfs, it was just dancing that his hands came on your hips. him enjoying thay lovely ass of yours against his dick. it made him feel euphoric. it was just dancing you told yourselfs when you looked him in the eyes and said the line "I wanna ride, Ride" and he felt his dick twich in his pants. it was just dancing you told yourselfs when you two were so close against each other the only thing you could do was look at each other and just breath really fast.

it wasn't just dancing you found out when you made out with Han in the bathroom of the club. His lips so soft and warm against yours, almost falling onto the floor from all the tension between you and him. He would moan softly on your lips when your hands touched his chest, or his lower belly. He stopped the kiss when your hand found its hardened crotch. He would moan softly into your ear, wanting to bite and lick every part of your body.

You giggled and putted him on the toilet. He pushed down his pants and underwear. his dick jumping out of his tight boxers. You gasp a little because of the length your best friend had. something you thought you would never see of him. You slide down your panties and positioned yourself down on his dick, your hands finding his shoulders, his hands on your waist, still feeling the soft fabric of your short dress. the dress that made him secrectly inlove with you when he saw you.

He moans at the sudden touch of your insides. "Fuck y/n, your so - Ah - tight." He moans and faces the ceiling. the light flickering at the same tempo you were going down on him. You moaned out his name, making him moan again.

You ride him softly, almost to gentle. Teasing Han with your tempo, you rode little circles on his dick, your own pleasure so much you forgot about him. His hands squeezed your waist a little, he got frustrated from your slow movements. "Yeah were not gonna do that.." He says and moves his hands to your ass and pulls you up a little, just enough for him to fuck into you hard enough to make you both lose control of everything.

You were a moaning mess, His mess. "You feel, so, so, Fuck I'm gonna cum.." He whispers into your ear slightly biting on your earlobe. You moaned his name enough for him to go faster. his moans turning into cries, as fast as he went in and out of you, he came in your dripping cunt. "Fuck baby, if I knew this earlier, I would've made you my fwb." He whispers and kisses you.

-----------------------------------------

you went back to the dancefloor like nothing happened. Jeongin, your other bestfriend wasn't supposed to know what just happened in that bathroom. He would get jealous of Han, he would get jealous because secretly he had a crush on you since he met you in highschool 5 years ago, he would get jealous because he jerked off to the sound of you pleasing yourself with the vibrator he saw you buy secretly online. He would get jealous because he would do your laundry so he could steal one of your panties to leave his freshly cum into it.

But maybe you wanted him to be jealous, so jealous he would fuck you rough in his car that you guys came into for the club. Maybe you wanted him to kiss you all over your body, not leaving any skin for him not to touch. Maybe you wanted him fucking you from behind, slapping your ass, moaning your name. Maybe you wanted him to eat you out in that car because you always imagined your vibrator as his tongue eating you out, flicking your clit.

Maybe you guys both wanted each other and it was finally clear this evening. Otherwhise you two wouldn't be kissing against his car, the club music playing silently in the background. Almost ripping each others clothes off wanting to be in each other, wanting to feel each other. you'd moan into the kiss leaving him smirking against the kiss. you would fall onto the backseat of his car, only wearing your bra and panties, his lips going over your lips, neck, collarbone, tits, sucking on your nipples, kissing your stomach. literally putting butterflies into your stomach and then removing your panties with his teeth.

Jeongin turned you around and pulled down his pants. closing the door of his car. He placed his dick at your entrance, just teasing you, teasing himself before enjoying the best cunt he had in years. The cunt he wanted for years, but not years. "Fuck baby.." He'd moan finally entering you. he would kiss your back, leaving a trail of saliva onto it.

It wouldn't take minutes for him to speed up. he wanted to start slow, knowing you had your problems, but he couldn't hold himself in, he needed you, he could finally give you the world and orgasm you deserved. "Let me fuck you like your deserve princess." He would say, slappig your ass, crapping onto it and speeding up. You'd moan out loud, almost gagging onto your moans. he went so fast and deep your could cum any minute, No, Second.

He spread your butt cheeks allowing him to go deeper and harder into you. "Baby you feel so good.." He'd moan. You placing your hand on the window that was fogged, wanting to hold onto something.

"I'm gonna.. Fuck- Im gonna." you started wanting to make clear you were gonna cum on his dick. "I know I know, cum for me baby." He would say against your back, kissing it again, not getting enough of you. "Me too." He would moan, getting slower and sloppy. Jeongin and you would cum at the same time, something that never happened in both of your lives. making it feel so special. "Oh my god.." He says and turns you around. Kissing you with his soft lips. "This is not gonna be the last time princess, no way."

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

NIGHT OUT (M)

★ PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 3k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: One night out with the girls couldn't hurt. Right?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: alcohol, unprotected sex, spanking, degradation, smut, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Based of this tiktok. Thanks to everyone who voted on Jaemin during the poll! I just wanted to write something quick while i worked on another WIP.

────୨ৎ────

“Girl, come on! We haven’t seen you in so long!” your friend pleads from the other end of the line.

“I know, but it’s already late, and you know how Jaemin gets about me going out without him,” you reply, glancing at the time and feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at your eyelids.

You’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, with an old movie playing faintly in the background when your friend’s call interrupts your quiet evening. It feels like ages since you’ve had a night out with just the girls. After a rough encounter with a sleazy guy at a bar—once—Jaemin has refused to let you step out alone ever since.

“There’s nothing to worry about! You’ll be with us. Nothing is going to happen. He just worries too much,” she reassures you.

“I mean, yeah… but still, I don’t want to deal with him fussing over it,” you say, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“Well, he doesn’t have to know! It’s been ages since we’ve had a girls’ night,” she insists, her excitement palpable.

She has a point. You ponder it for a brief moment, weighing your options. “Fine, but I’m not trying to be out all night,” you concede, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face as you imagine the laughter and fun you’ve been missing.

────୨ৎ────

Your friends all arrive and start pregaming at your house while you finish getting ready. Sitting at your vanity, you apply the final touches to your makeup.

“We are going to have so much fun tonight!” Mia exclaims, a wide grin on her face.

“Do you really think it will be okay?” you start to feel a twinge of worry.

“Uh-uh! Stop thinking about him,” Chae interjects, unexpectedly shoving a drink into your hand. “You need to relax and have fun—just drink this!”

You take the shot in one smooth motion, and before you know it, another one has found its way into your grasp. By the time the Uber arrives at your place, you’re already feeling a pleasant buzz, and thoughts of Jaemin have drifted away.

You realize how much you’ve missed nights out with your girls. You pile into the back of the Uber, your thighs sticking to the leather seats of the car in your short dresses as laughter fills the air. Camera flashes erupt as you snap selfies, capturing the joy of the moment. Once you arrive at the club, you finish off Liz's flask, the alcohol warming you further, and soon you’re stumbling and giggling as you make your way inside.

As you step inside the club, the bass thumps like a heartbeat, reverberating through your body and igniting a surge of exhilaration. The lights flash in vibrant colors, creating a pulsing atmosphere that feels electric. The air is thick with a mix of perfume, sweat, and excitement; it’s intoxicating. You can hardly keep your feet on the ground as the music wraps around you, urging your body to sway and move. The heat from the packed dance floor envelops you, making your cheeks flush and your skin prickle with anticipation.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, laughing and dancing with your friends. Each beat sends shivers down your spine, and you feel alive, as if the worries of the day have been stripped away. You spin and twirl, your hair flying around you as everyone is lost in their own little world.

After an hour of dancing, Liz gestures towards the bar, and your group eagerly follows her lead, ready to replenish your drinks and fuel your night. The bar is bustling, with people ordering shots and cocktails, laughter echoing as drink orders are called out. Neon lights illuminate the area, and you spot a bartender skillfully shaking drinks, tossing bottles in the air like they’re mere toys.

As you line up behind Liz at the bar, Chae is busy scrolling through her phone, her fingers flicking over the screen. Suddenly, you gasp, your heart racing for a different reason.

“What?” Chae looks up at you, concern etched on her face.

“Jaemin texted meee!” you squeal, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He’s asking what I’m doing. What do I sayyyy?”

Liz turns around, her expression shifting to one of playful indifference as she waves her hand dismissively. “Girl, just lie,” she rolls her eyes, clearly unfazed by the drama of texting your boyfriend while out.

You pause, biting your lip. Your fingers hovering over your keyboard as you contemplate what to say.

[10:23] what r u doing

[11:45] watching a movie whats up?

You’re about to tuck your phone back into your purse when it suddenly dings again.

[11:46] are you gonna be up? can I call?

Your stomach drops, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. “Guys, he wants to call me,” you glance nervously at your phone.

“Girl, give me the phone!” Mia snatches it from your hands and types something quickly before handing it back.

[11:47] nah im about 2 go 2 sleep ttyl!

“MIA!” you yell, a mixture of frustration and disbelief in your voice.

“WHAT?!” she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t text like that! He’s going to know something’s up!” you groan, the last thing you wanted tonight was to get into it with him.

Looking back at your phone, you see you’ve been left on read. “Just ignore him,” Liz says, handing you a shot. “Drinks are here!” You force a smile, trying to shake off the anxiety while your mind races with thoughts of what he might be thinking.

You throw back another shot. Screw it, you’re already out; you might as well get turnt up and deal with Jaemin tomorrow. You make your way back to the dance floor, determined to forget about him for the night. Mia and Liz dance together, while you dance with Chae. You belt out the lyrics to the song, hyping each other up, and before you know it, you’re not even trying to push thoughts of Jaemin away—they’ve completely slipped your mind.

After a while, Chae motions to you, leaning down to shout above the music. “I need to use the bathroom!” she yells.

“Okay, I’ll go with you!” you reply, waving at Liz and Mia to catch their attention. You mouth "bathroom,” and they nod in understanding, giving you the thumbs up as you weave through the crowd. Following Chae into the stall, you pull out your phone and check for messages as she takes care of business.

[12:00] Baby, are you alright?

[12:30] Wya?

You groan, and Chae looks up at you as she flushes the toilet. You exit the stall and set your phone down to wash your hands, Chae doing the same beside you.

“He’s texting again?” she asks with a teasing smile.

You dry your hands, grabbing your phone as you think about how to respond on your way out of the bathroom.

“Yeah,” you manage to say, letting the words hang in the air as you step back out onto the loud dance floor. You bump into a few people, too distracted by your phone screen to pay attention to where you’re going as you try to formulate a response.

[12:40] I’m at home, about to lay down though. Im really tired gn.

You hesitate hitting send, wondering if you’re being too dismissive or if he’ll just worry more. But you’re too overwhelmed to care right now—after all, the music is pulsing, and the night is still young.

You hit send, and the message is instantly marked as read. You see the three dots appear, indicating that he’s typing.

…

Pause

…

[12:41] Turn around.

You suck in a breath and freeze. Your friends notice your sudden stillness, concern flickering across their faces as their eyes trail up behind you, mouths dropping open in surprise.

“Go, go, go!” Liz yells at Mia and Chae, pushing them through the crowd to give you some space, leaving you to face Jaemin alone.

You brace yourself and turn around slowly. Just as you suspected, Jaemin stands towering over you in the packed club. “Heeyy,” you coo, attempting to lighten the tension.

He doesn’t look amused. In fact, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, tousled hair and all.

“I thought you were at the house?” he asks, tilting his head with heavy sarcasm.

“Damn, I forgot… I forgot I was at the club and not at home,” you say with a nervous smile, trying to play it off.

“So you think this is a game?” He nods his head, and a humorless laugh escapes his lips. "That's fine but go say bye to your little friends.”

You curse under your breath and turn away from him. Spotting Mia, Chae, and Liz watching the encounter from a few feet away, you push through the crowd, ready to let them have it.

“This is all your fault!” You swat at them, frustration bubbling over.

“Ow!” Mia cries as you slap her arm, feigning injury. Chae and Liz are laughing as you hit them next.

“Your ass is grass next time I see y’all,” you glare at them, eyes narrowing as you try to hold back laughter despite the absurdity of the situation.

With one last look at your friends, you turn back toward Jaemin, who’s still standing in the same spot, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face.

As you approach, he leans down slightly so only you can hear, his voice low, “Just wait until we get home.”

A shiver runs down your spine, equal parts excitement and dread. You frown but nod your head, knowing you were going to be in so much trouble. Jaemin pulls you along until you're outside, opening the passenger side door for you. Once you’re settled inside, he reaches over and buckles you in, a gesture that feels oddly affectionate amidst the tension. He shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side, the silence stretching between you as he grips the steering wheel tightly. You can see his knuckles turning white, a clear indication that he’s still upset.

The ride home is uneventful, your mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You finally arrive at your apartment, and before you can say anything, he gets out and slams the car door shut. He strides over to your side and opens the door, grabbing your purse as he helps you out.

“Jaem, we just wanted a girls' night out! I’m sorry; don’t be mad,” you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible as you follow him up the steps to your apartment.

He doesn’t respond, and you roll your eyes, watching him dig in the bottom of your bag for your keys. He finds them and unlocks the door with a swift motion.

You step inside, almost relieved to be back in the familiarity of your home. But just as you’re about to take off your heels, he stops you with a firm tone. “Nuh uh, heels stay on, baby. Bedroom. Now.”

“But I said I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing full well what that tone means. You’re not sure if you’re ready for whatever punishment he has in store.

“Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?” He replies, his voice low and serious.

Feeling a rush of apprehension, you straighten up and tread towards the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as you wait for him. You can hear him close the door behind him before he stands between your legs, towering over you. You look up at him, giving your best puppy dog eyes, hoping to soften his mood a little.

Jaemin’s expression is still firm. “You think that’s gonna work on me?” he asks, lowering his voice even further. He grips your cheeks and holds your gaze. “You know liars get punished, right?” he asks and you nod your head.

“Do you deserve to get punished tonight?” He watches you and you nod your head again, your eyes beginning to water under the weight of his words.

“Don’t start crying now, baby. I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, his tone laced with a mix of teasing and seriousness as he leans down to kiss the tears that have stained your cheeks.

He releases your face, pulling you to your feet before taking your place on the bed. “Bend over,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Your heart races as you comply, laying across his lap with your short dress riding up to expose your bare bottom. It’s just a thong underneath, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“When I asked you where you were, what did you say?” He asks, punctuating his words with a sharp slap to your ass.

“Home,” you sniffle, the sting of his hand making you wince.

“Where were you instead?” He smacks the other cheek, the sharpness sending a rush of heat coursing through you.

“At the club,” you whimper, the reality of the situation hitting you hard.

“Why don’t I like you going alone?” He asks, his voice steady but firm, leaving you to ponder your previous choices.

“But I wasn’t alone, my fri—” you start to explain, but he interrupts you with a quick series of three sharp smacks against your ass, each one leaving a burning sensation that contrasts with the fluttering excitement in your stomach.

“Don’t fucking talk back,” he growls, pulling your hair back gently but firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “Do I need to put that mouth to better use? Huh?”

“No, Nana,” you manage to reply, the nickname slipping out instinctively, a soft plea.

“That’s what I thought. Now answer my question,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

“Because it’s dangerous to go alone,” you respond quickly.

“Now count,” he instructs

He strikes you twenty times, ten on each cheek. He soothes your skin between hits, a stark contrast to the sharp sting. You count every single one.

“That’s my good girl. You knew better than that, yeah?” he says, his voice dripping with approval.

“Yes, sir,” you nod.

Once he’s satisfied, he helps you to your feet and instructs you to get in the bed. You sit awkwardly, the fabric of the sheets tangling with your heels, but you comply without hesitation. Jaemin remains at the foot of the bed, and you can’t help but watch as he strips himself down. Your breath catches in your throat as he strokes himself, his other hand gliding down his chest. You feel an intense desire to reach out, to bite into the skin of his pecs and to mark him as yours.

“Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you plead, your voice soft, desperation lacing your words. You knew he wasn’t done punishing you.

“Turn over, hands behind your back,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

You pout at the prospect of him taking you from behind. You loved watching him fuck you; you loved the intimacy of Missonary even though you loved the fact you could feel him in your guts when he hit it from the back. Even so, you do as you are told and you feel the mattress dip from his weight. Once he gets his hands on you, he's unzipping your dress and pulling it off. He undresses you until your just in your thong and high heels. His eyes rake over your body before he lets out a needy groan. He pulls your thong to the side and lines himself up with your entrance before he pushes in. You moan at the stretch and he uses one hand to hold your hands behind your back as the other tangles in your hair. Your makeup is sure to have smeared against the sheets as he pushes your head into the mattress as he fucks you.

“Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” He asks you. “You get fucked like a slut”

His hips drive into you again and again. He was deep and you loved every second of it. The way his hips slammed into you had your eyes rolling and thighs clenching. When you try to close your legs, he uses his knee to kick them back open. You wanted to touch him or atleast dig your fingers into the covers to hold on to something as he fucks some sense into you. You could feel how upset he was; he hated arguing and yelling; he was the type to fuck and make up; take out any frustrations on your greedy cunt and talk after.

You loved it

He lets go of your arms and pushes your back down into a deeper arc and you can finally grip the sheets. You could feel your thighs tremble and each time they slipped down the mattress or your legs threatened to give out, Jaemin was gripping your hips and pulling you up again to meet his thrusts.

His grunts turn to moans and they grow in pitch and you can tell he's at his limit. Usually at times like this he would slow down his pace to last longer or rub your clit to get you there but today you were his to use.

“Bad girls don't get to cum,” he says breathlessly.

After a few more deep thrusts, he's pulling out of you and coming all over your back. You look over your shoulder at him, makeup smeared and cheeks tear-stained. He coos and laughs at you as he leans down to kiss your lips.

“Stay right here; I'll be right back,” he says before leaving another kiss against your cheek.

He steps into the bathroom and emerges with a warm wet towel. As he gently cleans you up and removes your makeup with soft wipes, he works deftly to slip off the high heels that have been pinching your feet. Once he’s finished, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle against him. He starts to play with your fingers,

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. You know I would never hurt you, right?” you say, searching his eyes for a sign that he understands the gravity of your words. Your heart races, hoping he can see just how honest you’re being.

“Well, let’s talk about it in the morning, okay, baby?” He replies, his voice warm and soothing.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he responds.

As his embrace fosters a sense of safety, your worries begin to melt away. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you find comfort in the rhythm of his breathing before drifting into sleep.